I’m not a person who cries. I never have been particularly, being able to count on one hand - no, one finger - the number of films that I’ve cried at. But then neither am I a person prone to shows of emotion, being a sulker more than an angry person and a cautious individual when it comes to showing what I really feel about things. Despite my hard as nails approach, though, this week has thrown up a very emotional situation. The small harbour town of Home, and in fact the whole of Caithness has spent the last few days in a state of mild shock. Part of the beauty of living in such a close knit area is that community still carries its old-fashioned meaning. Tuesday night saw the dramatic and sudden death of a much respected member of the community, local teacher Doctor Kevin Costello. I never met him, but he touched the lives of so many people, my family included, that I felt I knew him.
It is not my intention to write an entire blog on the passing of Doctor Costello, but his tragic demise illustrated one very real thing to me. And it was this: One person may touch the life of a hundred people, but if each of them share it with a hundred more, as quickly as ripples on a lake that single person has impacted on the lives of 100,000 people. Way back in June when I first began writing these blogs, I spoke about the importance of smiling and how much sunshine that simple gesture could give, and I still maintain that it is the most positive way to share something with the world.
As I am certain most of my readers will know, I come from a family of writers and artists. One of my sisters runs an online publishing enterprise, another is busy putting her hard work onto the big screen to add an extra page to the history of her hero Charles Edward Stewart, another is poring over her new contract with an American publishing house, whilst the youngest is spending all her free time at the moment constructing her own world and cultures for her book. A mention must also be made for my Mum who is a poet without compare - and here I will spare no apology for saying that I would sooner use a page of Carol Ann Duffy’s poetry to mop up spilled tea than to read it - and for my brother who, along with my Mum, writes the most amazing prose on observations of the natural world…
…Having finished that shameless plug for my family (of whom, I am excessively proud!), I’ll get to the point I wanted to make. Not one of us writes for the money - in fact there is little money to make in much of the writing world now - each one of us writes for two reasons:
1) Entirely selfishly, it is something we all love to do.
2) We have a strong desire to bring enjoyment and pleasure to other people through our writings.
It matters to all of us that our work spreads those ripples across the face of the water, and touch the hearts and minds of the people who read our work.
The harsh reality of this world, as the premature death of Dr Costello proved, is that not one of us can know how long we will be here for. It’s frightens me from time to time, but if I share with the world all the good that I have day by day, offer smiles to strangers on the street and support for those that need it, then my deeds will hopefully spread like ripples and eventually my kindness will touch the lives of hundreds of people. It isn’t always easy, it must be said. In town I come across plenty of people I have to remind myself to smile at, but it’s worth it in the end.
I think it should be the hope of every person on the planet to send out as many ripples of happiness across the water of the world as we can. Doctor Costello may not have been known to many of you, but through me, I hope I am able to pass on the ripples of appreciation to you all and continue the kindness and goodness he started. After all, isn’t that what we aim to do with memorial events?
So today offer a smile to someone, share a nicety or two, and do it in the memory of Doctor Costello who you probably never knew, but who’s ripples deserve to continue spreading even in his absence.
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